


Thirty Days with La Belle et La Bête

by two_ff



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: 30 Days of BatB, 30 Days of Beauty and the Beast Challenge, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 16:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15392658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_ff/pseuds/two_ff
Summary: The life they live in the small moments defines a love for the ages...A "30 Days of Beauty and the Beast" fanfic work.Rated for mature themes





	1. Prompts 1-3

**Author's Note:**

> My response to the "30 Days of BatB" challenge (yeah, I know... a *little* late on that front...) and my first efforts in this fandom. 
> 
> BTW: My "Adam" is named Vincent Robert Adam-Phillipe du Renaud. The name, loosely translated, means "to advise or to rise"
> 
> A few notes...  
> (1) My intent is to write this as 100-word drabbles -OR- longer prompt responses that will be EXACTLY divisible by 100 (my OCD isn't responding well to meds right now... *sigh...)  
> (2) Chapters may contain a number of drabbles in the order the original prompts were released. ANYTHING longer than100 words will probably be in its own chapter.  
> (3) I *may* decide to respond and post prompts (in separate chapters) out of order if my muse insists -- but they will retain the original sequence number. I'll reorder when (if...) I get them all done.  
> (4) Ain't gonna happen in 30 days -- THAT I can guarantee.

**Prompt #1: Morning**

He must remember, despite desire and drowsiness…

…for he is NOT a Beast.

Adam requires neither the sun nor chiming timepieces to know when dawn is imminent.

So used are they to this pattern that Belle rolls to her back without prompting, scissoring her legs between his to join where he lays on his side. Soon each is moaning and trembling with release and love. Boneless but aware, he assists her adjustments so he can spoon her while they grab a few precious hours of slumber. He must remember, despite desire and drowsiness…

…for she carries his child.

 

 

**Prompt #2: Jealousy**

Belle follows as Adam moves through the castle, hoping to regain his attentions. She’s resigned to being second to his books — but she’s unprepared to place second to his “lady”.

Villenueve’s villagers were cruel but honest; no one matched Belle’s natural beauty. Her husband once thought so as well. Now he flaunts his obsession with his stunningly beautiful “new love”. He stops in a suite near theirs and _ignores_ Belle as she leans against the jamb. When he’s satisfied, he turns and places a searing kiss on his wife’s impatient lips before speaking —

“Thank you for our daughter, my love.”

 

 

**Prompt #3: Midnight**

The soothing melody from Chapeau’s violin kept their feet moving, their bodies swaying. Dancing at midnight was no longer odd in the castle. The new Princess had her own ideas on propriety and decorum. So long as it didn’t impose unduly on their castle family, well… conventions be damned!

Not to mention the benefits. Adam spent these nights holding Belle; an arm slung lazily around her waist snugged her as close as possible — 

— while she cradled the newest de Renaud princess, Aurora, the newborn who _refused_ to sleep at decent hours and have pity on her exhausted first-time parents.

 


	2. Prompt 4

**Prompt #4: Bath**

The palace and grounds were sweltering in the unusual heat of summer. After a decade of ice, snow and biting cold, the formerly enchanted inhabitants grew accustomed to chillier climes. Belle, Adam discovered, ran hot: her body and mind always in motion and dissipating her energies.

He expected to find her at the pond with the others, cooling herself. To his disappointment, she wan’t there. Thanks to the temperatures (and his absence), tempers (especially his own) were short. Returning from two months in Versailles, the prince declared a holiday until the dreadful heat abated.

“Lumiere, I seem to have misplaced my wife,” Adam joked to his assistant, who dunked his own daughter’s tiny toes into the water.

“You know your lady well. ‘The bee is in her bonnet’, as Mrs’ Potts says. Is she not in the castle?”

Plumette sloshed by, her skirts tucked at the waist and her undergarments pulled as high as possible, to take their child while her husband attended their liege and friend. 

“No. I’ve lapped the castle twice and checked the library thrice since my return. She’s alluded me somehow.”

“Sire,” Plumette interjected as little Isabeau reached for her godfather, “I have sometimes seen her leaving the storage cellars. She keeps herself distracted when you are away…”

Adam took the baby, smiling thoughtfully while his godchild peppered his cheek with kisses. It was time, he decided, to settle on a schedule for a joint project with his wife — like the little one giggling in his arms.

“I will,” their employer decided, handing the darling child to her mother, “find her. Thank you.”

He found Belle in the sub-basement of one of the root cellars — a large space dug as expansion room for keeping stores of food cooler longer. She’d been working on some major project in that tomb-like hollow since early spring. 

Descending the stairs, he entered a room shimmering in radiance.

She’d built a cistern in the center of the chamber, tiled like the fountain Chip and Frou-Frou were cavorting in when Adam passed. A pipe, the size of those used for deep wells, protruded above the far end of the reservoir with an Archimedes’ screw in it; turning the mechanical device delivered a flow of water into the tank from some unseen source. On a sunken ledge near the front sat his Belle, submerged to her lovely shoulders and drowsing.

Every wall sported a vertical ceiling-to-mid-wall mirror and a candle on a simple shelf, wall-mounted at the mirror’s lower edge. “Belle candles”, as the staff named them, were glass pots filled with scented wax. Near their centers sat not one nor two but eight wicks. So powerful was the resulting light (and so long did the candles last) that Cogsworth ordered them installed in the sconces to replace the old, single-wick variety. 

The room glowed with reflected light as if lit by the sun. It felt more like a rooftop hide-away than the dark, dusty subterranean crypt it had been months prior.

“So you’ve solved your cooling problem, Chou?” he teased.

Languorously Belle stretched, a naughty smile spreading across her relaxed features. Her husband “caught” her testing her newest invention; she was nude and unapologetic. 

Adam leaned against the jamb, the _only_ mirrorless surface in the space. 

“I have,” she returned. “We should build more for our household. Will you join me?”

“How can I deny such a lovely request? I’ll need to tell the others where —”

“Must you? I mean… It’s too _hot_ to work. You’ve been so busy lately —”

“— as have you, apparently —” he shot back.

“I miss my husband…” she pouted, a rare occurrence with his wife.

“We’ll compromise. What if I agree to tell only Mrs. Potts? I can say we’re working on a du Renaud heir.”

Belle leaned her chin on her forearm on the edge of the tank — “That would be _lying_.”

“Not if we truly try. It has been nearly two years, cherie…”

He spoke truth; their vows were shared 22 months ago.

“Oh, alright! But don’t dally or I could change my mind— and wear your work clothes; you may find the water too cold to achieve any ‘heirs’ in.”

With that warning and a lascivious laugh, Adam dashed up two flights of steps (two at a time) and returned to the outside world. 

His errands took nearly twenty minutes to complete but, at their end, he returned to Belle dressed as he’d been when the curse ceased. Across one arm lay towels; across the other, a food hamper. His hands held soap for washing and oils for after their “bath”.

“You took forever, my love. I should punish you,” she threatened. Her handsome husband stripped and approached the low steps at the cistern’s entrance, his body beautiful despite the scars and his gait graceful and full of purpose. Ignoring her earlier warning, Adam stepped in up to his waist — and roared.

“ ** _AHHH_**! **_God’s_** ** _breath_** ** _, woman_**! ’ _Tis cold enough to shrivel a man’s sac_!”

His mischievous wife laughed, moving further from him.

“I suppose that means you’ll be of little use to me?” — and she drenched the dry parts of him with water chilled deep in the earth.

“ _You’ve crossed the line, you little minx_! I shall get twins on you — two sons destined to be bigger hellions than I was!”

 

The chase was on. 

 

For the first time both saw themselves reflected on every inch of wall space. The living movie of their pursuit of an heir titillated and aroused them to efforts not experienced before. Adam expressed surprise as great as Belle’s when the Beast, who still lived within, joined their lovemaking, “mating” his wife in a manner intended to produce results…

* * *

 Within a month, three additional cooling “baths” were erected for use, although the original remained the domain solely of the prince and princess.

Within a year, Belle was safely delivered of two sons who, like their mischievous father, required _everyone’s_ attentive supervision…

 


	3. Prompts 5-8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "garderobe" is a toilet, loo or privvy that is *indoors* (in what could loosely be considered a bathroom) and that "pipes" all "waste" deposited -- using gravity -- into a moat or the nearest water source.

**Prompt #5: Leather**

Collected in a hall the size of half her village, the books in the library scented the space with the heady aroma of leather. Hardening by the bookbinder trapped aromatic remnants from the hot water bath each skin received before becoming protection for Belle’s treasured tomes. 

This essence brought a more _intimate_ smile. The bouquet clung to Belle, forced into clothing and skin as Adam rocked her into the titles with each thrust, her legs wound ‘round and gripping him  tightly. Each odor braided itself with the incense of Adam’s sweat and seed and rut, recalling her amorous Beast…

 

 

**Prompt #6: First**

He’d be her first; she’d _definitely_ not be his. 

Some discomfort stood between Adam, Belle and wedding night bliss, but it couldn’t be avoided. Abandoning the fete, they strolled timidly to the their shared bedchamber (formerly his beastly lair) along Lumiere's white rose-petal pathway. Once there, Adam impatiently removed her wedding finery — except her chemise; Belle nervously unencumbered him of all but his drawers  — coy yet curious at his obvious readiness.

Sheepishly, Adam asked — “Shall we relieve ourselves before bed?”, the garderobe looming nearby.

An hour of exertions later, they smiled their way to bed — both with a “first”.

 

 

**Prompt #7: Bright**

Mornings were for lovemaking.

She waited for the curtains to brighten — glowing warmly from the dawn of day — before she threw the covers back to just _look_ at her husband and enjoy what made him a fantastic partner and lover. Gossip, whispered aloud in the towns (when the “Royals” weren’t visiting to drop off valuable food and supplies), wondered what the Beast left behind. Across Adam’s principality, townspeople _pitied_ Belle.

“That poor girl! What deal with the Devil _keeps_ her there?”

 

As she stroked Adam to stiffened usefulness, Belle smiled her gratitude for this long, thick remnant of her “Beast”.

 

 

**Prompt #8: Hands**

Her hands serve many tasks.

Adam sees them stained, black with the charcoal ever present near her. Her active mind invents relentlessly and the castle is the better for it. He sees them calloused; Belle knows hard work and does not shy away, even as a princess. He sees them purposeful, flipping forward and backward to impatiently search her books for something elusive.

Mostly, he sees them _tender_ — when she tends him, when she soothes him and when she loves him through touch as they satisfy each other.

Adam considers: her talented hands truly serve _this_ task best of all…

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like most starving fanfic artists, my only joy is dialogue with you, the readers. Please leave me notes, argue with me, criticize -- or praise -- civilly. Share your thoughts and passions. Feed my muse. 
> 
> In other words -- *talk* to us all if the story motivates your mind or heart. We're all the better for sharing (I hope...)


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